Everyday in story of our life pages are added. In unwritten columns these pages are piling. Where ever we are, it is a fact each moment is contributing to build a story. Moment tells the story…In desert storms are meant to shift dunes. The storming winds have the enormous power to change the contours of the desert. Over the changing moments, story builds….
In my storming session of thoughts too, I wish to add another page to my story. It is certain that wind and so as the writers have the power to bring in desire change. The barren moments of life have the power to obliterate anybody’s existence. The loneliness is also like a predator, which, selects the prey and with its lethal bite can suck life out of any individual. The tyranny of loneliness can eat the edges of anybody’s existence.
In the most alluring bait of cool night or serenity of desert, I refuse to dwarf my temptations. I let temptation to construct my edges first and thereafter as a prelude, I accept the peripheral incursion. And that’s when I try and feel my genuine existence. Prudently, I keep a check on fault lines of apprehensions.
In the defining outlines, I see real and that’s how I unwind my perplexity. I begin to understand that others too have edges and they are real. They too cautiously tread into turbulent zone of life. They have their own story and when I read that, I get to know more.
There are many like us and without demarcation, I am drafting a new story line of hope.